The Touch Me Curse
by chaosgenes
Summary: Dean has been cursed by a man-witch and he can't touch his own skin to relieve himself. Desperate, he turns to Sam to help him with his unfortunate situation. Both aren't prepared for what happens when they cross the line of being brothers.
1. Touch Me, Dammit

**A/N: **Hello y'all. Because this idea sprang in my head over the course of a few days, I wrote this short fic on a whim. It'll be two chapters long and I hope you readers will enjoy it. Heck, it was fun writing it.

Chapter 1: Touch Me, Dammit

"Have I ever told you how much I _hate_ witches?" Deans asks from the passenger side. He slides down in his seat, looking clearly uncomfortable as he tries to adjust his jeans without touching them.

"Yes, you have Dean, for the _tenth_ time!" Sam answers irritated. Giving sidelong glances at his brother, the younger man can't help but think how weird it is to see his brother so aroused. Serious, sullen, leery, and angry are the average expressions the man wore, but genuinely aroused isn't one of them. Sam adds, "Besides, it's your fault for messing with the witch! He wasn't even causing anyone harm!"

Driving down the road in the middle of the night, Sam divides his attention between steering and staring at Dean. The older man was practically squirming in his seat with his hands clenching the passenger door and the other on the leather. He breathed heavily and swore.

"He was forcing women to get supernaturally turned on," Dean attempts to justify, "he bangs them!"

"Yeah, and they ended up with the best orgasms in their life!"

"Then why do I, a man, have a fucking hard-on where I can't even touch myself? What kind of curse is that?" he mutters bitterly, thrusting his hips just a little bit before hissing in pain. He turns his head towards his brother, eyes squeezed shut, and for a moment, Sam actually felt bad. "I'm gonna fucking _die_ of _blue balls_ here if I don't get myself off, Sam," Dean gripes.

_Yeah, what a way for a hunter to go_, Sam thinks abruptly, but his hands stiffen on the steering wheel and he lays out their options. "Well, we know the witch was pissed when you burst into his private room, guns blazing and all, scaring the woman he was going to do next off. She left and he, uh, still had some unfinished business down there."

"Yeah," Dean grunts. "So?"

"_So_ maybe he wanted you to know what he felt like. You were the one who interrupted him after all and he did say, _as_ he escaped, that you will pay dearly and that _you will die hard and dry_."

Sam just never really thought the witch would mean it literally.

Dean is frustrated when he summarizes the dilemma he is in. "So I have like what? Less than an hour or so to find someone to sleep with me or I die? Because I don't think I can last any longer than that."

"Well, maybe you don't have to sleep with them if all you need to do is get off. Like a hand job or something," Sam suggests.

"I knew your big brains were good for something, Sammy," Dean says teasingly, but it doesn't completely reach Sam's ears. It sounds more like laboured breathing. Wriggling once more, Dean also pulls on the seat belt on his chest as if it'll help ease his pain. "Pull over, Sammy. You're the one that's gonna get me off."

Sam nearly drives them into a ditch when he hears that.

"What the hell, Sam!" Dean yells, hand on the window. "You trying to get us _both _killed?!"

What the younger man says instead is nowhere near answering Dean's question. He looks wide-eyed at his brother and back at the road, then back at his brother. "I'm not _touching_ your dick, Dean!" he yells.

"Do you want me to die hard and dry?"

"No, of course not, you're my brother—"

"Then pull the fucking car over _now_."

There are some things that you just don't argue with Dean Winchester with and even if the man is in a compromising state, this is just one of those things. Obediently, Sam drives the Impala off the highway and parks right at the edge of the road where pavement meets gravel. He takes a deep breath, swallows and then turns to look at Dean, who has chosen that moment to lean his head back and utter out a groan. It sends a weird shiver down Sam's spine.

Despite Dean having ruined his life many times, the bottom line is that the man is still Sam's brother and there really isn't almost anything that Sam wouldn't do for Dean—especially if it's possible for him to do.

Jerking Dean off?

_Yeah, sure I can do that, _Sam rationalizes because it's not like he has to gather near rare ingredients from obscure parts of the world, and then find the right place, the right time, and chant some ancient Latin spell. He can do the easy way, which _is _completely within his power to break the curse. Sam just needed a little more nudging to even come close to willingly touch another man's dick, let alone his brother's.

Dean's head is still pressed against the seat, nearly whining as he speaks, "_Sammy, touch me dammit,_" and that trembling, desperate voice is what finally drags Sam out of his thoughts and throws him into the flames.

"Alright, alright!" Sam cries, pushing his door open. "Move to the back, Dean," he orders his brother. Then he's heading for the back door too, ducking his head back into the car by the time Dean is getting out from the passenger side. Even under the moonlit night Sam can see that every move Dean makes is really painful and he reaches his hand out to ease his brother in. "You okay there, man?"

Breathing hard, as if he just ran a marathon, Dean answers roughly, "Just fucking jerk me off already, Sam."

They sit side by side, shoulders touching as Dean demands the attention he needs. Sam, on the other hand, doesn't really know where to start. He just stares down at his brother's fly in the near darkness, his hands as useless as Dean's, which gripped on Sam's jacket. "Uh…"

"Goddammit, unzip me!" Dean growls out, voice harsh in Sam's ears. The taller man startles before Dean says less aggressively, "Just touch me the way you touch yourself, alright Sammy? You remember how I taught you to—"

"Yeah, I _remember_ Dean! Jesus," Sam mutters reaching for the man's fly. It was the first and only time his brother laid a hand on his cock; the memory is high on Sam's list of most embarrassing moments, which featured Dean in the majority of them, but to this day it is by far the best hand job Sam has ever received. He doesn't, for the life of him, understand why though since he tried everything Dean had did and never got the same result again. No other woman could replicate what his brother did, no matter how many times he guided them step-by-step. Now Sam is being expected to jerk off the one who taught him how to do it.

Sam fumbles with Dean's zipper and roughly pulls it over the bulge he can feel against his fingers. He inhales sharply as the older man breathes out a low groan. Taking a few more gulps of air, Sam reaches past the waist band of Dean's dark briefs and touches down on hot, hard flesh.

Dean sighs in relief. "…That's it, Sammy," he praises, pressing himself up into the taller man's arm. "Now…wrap your fingers around it."

"I don't need your damn instructions, Dean," Sam mutters, breath short from all the awkwardness and excitement. "I know what I'm doing." He opens his palm, feels the wide girth of Dean's member, which was maybe about two and half inches in diameter, and freezes for a few seconds. He allows his fingers to adjust to the heavy piece of burning flesh before slowly wrapping his long fingers around it. They easily circle around the member and then Sam is pulling it free from its cottony and denim confines.

To Sam's surprise, Dean starts to thrust into the younger man's hand. The foreign texture, length, thickness, and even its hardness all catches Sam off guard; he hastily withdraws his hand in shock. Of course, Dean protests. He looks at the taller man, a look of hurt and desperation clear on his stubble and sweat-slicked face.

"Why'd you stop?" Dean asks confused.

There are a dozen answers that Sam can pull from the top of his head, most of them focusing on the fact that they're brothers, but Sam already knows that. He's a thirty some year old man with absolute knowledge on what consent is and what the consequences ahead are. If he's going to do this, he isn't going to do it half-assed. If anything, he's going to give Dean the best hand job the man has ever encountered.

So, Sam coughs and makes a feeble excuse that their position is uncomfortable. Next thing he knows, Sam is sitting in the corner between back seat and side door with his right leg on the seat and his left foot on the floor. He pulls Dean towards his body, the older man going along compliantly all the while, until Dean's positioned against Sam's chest with jeans loose on his hips and his cock is pointing in the cool air.

To make himself even more comfortable, Sam slips his arms beneath Dean's and reaches for his brother's hard-on once more, pushing fear and morality aside to try and be the adult he is. "Comfortable?" he asks, because it's not just for show. He wants Dean to be.

The older man nods in silence and hisses when Sam grips Dean's member with more force, using his thumb to slide over the pre-cum that appears on the member's slit. Sam remembers what Dean had done for them when they were growing up because they sat in opposite positions like they did now. Dean had wanted Sam to learn how to properly masturbate, so he sat behind Sam, arms around his awkward body and slowly stroked him to release, giving a commentary during the whole duration. Sam isn't going to talk though, he's not the type to broadcast his sexual activities. However, Dean is still ever the vocal one.

"T-that's good," he breathes out, voice shaky as his head tilts back, resting hard against the space between Sam's neck and shoulder. "_Damn_…so good, Sammy."

Despite their situation, Sam snorts. His strokes were simple, tamed, and exactly what he does to himself. "I'm sure a touch from _anybody_ will have you groaning, Dean," he refutes lightly, giving a long pull away from their bodies. Sure, he's driving his brother crazy, but if they found a woman willing to service a strange and horny man, Sam is sure Dean will react the same way.

"_Sooo_ good," Dean repeats lowly, as if flying off in his own little world.

Dean's cock is slick from all the pre-cum and swears as Sam continues to pull and tug with rhythmic movements, chin hooking Dean's right shoulder so he could watch his own ministrations. It's also to hear his brother more clearly. The raspy moans, the hitched breaths, the hot puffs of air he occasionally feels against his ears, are all it takes for Sam's libido to go from zero to sixty.

Blood thumps in the younger man's ears at the same time it fills his cock. "Dean," he murmurs breathlessly, stroking faster. A pleasant haze, akin to the weed he once unwittingly took at 15, fogs his head as he drinks in the salty and musky smell of his brother. He even fondles the man's balls a bit, but then his right hand is sliding underneath Dean's plaid shirt and touches his hot moist skin. Gasping, Dean arches his chest into the touch while his ass presses into Sam's crotch.

"_Fuck_, Sam!" Dean moans deeply and brings his arms up over his shoulders so his hands could wrap the back of Sam's head and neck. He thrusts forward into his brother's hand before moving back and rubbing his rear against Sam's hardness.

It drives the taller man wild when Dean repeats the motions over and over again. At the same time that Sam is running his one hand over sweaty firm abs and pectorals, he feels Dean's broad fingers caress his neck, tug his hair, stroke roughly over his face, and then back to caressing again. Sam even finds himself rutting lightly into Dean's backside to the point where he isn't sure who is the one cursed anymore.

But he's mad now, driven by an inexplicable and powerful desire to push Dean into pure bliss. By the way the older man is rocking back and forth frantically, voice guttural, Sam thinks he might just reach his goal.

"You close, Dean?" Sam asks, breath haggard as he continues to pump Dean's cock.

The older man locks his fingers behind Sam's neck, drawing Sam closer to Dean's mouth. Then Sam feels wet lips moving against the damp skin on his jaw line and it makes his body tingle in all the right fantastical ways. "So, close, Sam…" his brother answers breathlessly. "Just tug a little harder there…"

"…Here?"

"Yeah, just like tha—Jesus, Sammy," Dean mutters, lips and breath warm on Sam's skin. "Where'd you l-learn to stroke like that?"

"Practice," Sam answers and gives Dean one final long stroke that runs from the tip to the base of Dean's cock. He feels Dean's balls tighten and at the sight of the man shooting a thick white stream through his fingers, groaning Sam's baby name into his neck, Sam grinds into Dean's lower spine and ejaculates as well.

He's never creamed his pants before.

They lay there, bodies trembling from the aftershocks as their breaths mingle with each other in the quiet. Dean has finally loosened his relentless hold on Sam's neck, so, when the taller man raises his head, he could do so with ease. He glances down at his brother though, curious to see how Dean is doing now that the man's raging hard on is gone. Sam is taken aback to see his brother's dark half-lidded eyes staring back at him in silence.

Even in under low lighting, Sam can see the remnants of arousal in Dean's eyes. There's also something indefinable in the man's expression that Sam can't quite place in his sex-blown mind, but it brings his left hand, the one that's coated in his brother's essence, up to Dean's face to caress the man's jaw. His thumb leaves a trace of pearl white on his brother's full lips as he sweeps over it in fascination.

_Is this how he looks every time he jerks off? _Sam asks in his head. He thinks it's a good look at the same time that he leans downwards, intent on implementing what the mood is calling for.

Although right before Sam's mouth reaches Dean's, he feels a hand shoving at his chest and it's like he's being kicked out of a pleasant dream. He also feels his brother squirming out of his grasp. Not knowing what to do, the taller man lets him.

Confusion rattles Sam's mind.

When Dean speaks, his words are a stake through the younger man's heart. "Thanks, Sam," he mumbles and continues as he pulls up his pants, "Saved my life, now let's get back on the road." Wiping his face, Dean tucks his flaccid dick back in his jeans. His voice returns to its characteristic gruff quality.

It takes Sam a while to adjust to it because it's the kind of voice that draws a line between people and it's the kind of voice that Sam was hoping he wouldn't hear.

When Dean hands him tissue to clean himself up, murmuring an awkward apology, Sam accepts it. He tries to use that as an opening to more conversation.

"But Dean, we—"

"NO, we don't e_ver_ talk about this," Dean says with finality. He shoves the back door open on his right and climbs out. "I'm driving. You're probably going to run us into another ditch," he mutters.

At the sound of the door slamming close, the intimate environment that they had created under moonlight and darkness shatters along with it. Sam never expects that one curse could rope him so tightly around his brother and make him feel the impossible. He also doesn't expect Dean's abrupt and callous attitude right after either, especially when his brother seemed to enjoy it. Like the witch's victims, all the moans and groans that poured from Dean's mouth were the curse's doing. Miserably acknowledging this fact, Sam numbly wipes his hands clean and leaves the back as well. Without a word, he walks around the car and climbs into the passenger side.

For the first five minute drive to their nearest motel, Sam breathes in the strong smell of sex that still lingers in the car. That doesn't last for long. Dean opens the window and lets the cool wind pick up all traces of their activity and throw it behind them into the night.


	2. Touch Me, Please

**A/N: **Well, readers this is it! The last chapter for this story. It's longer than I originally intended but I don't think it subtracts from the fic—unless you're a short chapter kind of person.

Anyways, thanks for the reviews and favs and let me know how this all turned out.

Chapter 2: Touch Me, Please

They're snuggled in their own individual beds, comfortable as one could possibly get in scratchy blankets and tough linen. The lights are off and there's nothing but the glowing red from the night stand's digital clock and the motel's name in neon lights through the window shades.

Even though Sam's eyes have been closed for the last two and a half hours or so, he's not completely asleep. His mind is stuck on the hand job he had given to his brother in the back seat of their car. He remembers the openness between them; the unanticipated but welcomed intimacy that he didn't realize he had even craved. He wants it again.

If he keeps his eyes closed, he can see and feel Dean's cock pulsing in his hand. If he keeps his eyes closed, he can see Dean's satisfied face and feel satisfied himself knowing that he, Sam Winchester, had did that to his brother.

If he keeps his eyes closed for just a little bit longer, then maybe, just maybe, all of that can come true again.

"_Augh_…"

The bed beside Sam's creaks and another low moan comes from that direction. Sam's eyes snap open. That didn't sound too good. Concerned, he shifts to his side resting on his elbows. "Dean?" he ventures, "Are you okay?"

His brother's silhouette forms against all the mixture of artificial lights from outside and Sam can see the older man is arching on the bed. "_Sam_," Dean grounds out breathlessly, "…I-I don't think we broke the curse."

_Whoa—did my wish just really come true? _Sam thinks at the same time he's pulling his blanket off. He doesn't show his excitement though because he doesn't want to be rejected a second time, but he also doesn't want his brother to die. Cautiously, he approaches Dean's bed and asks carefully, "Dean, do…you need help again?"

The older man struggles to sit up and leans against the headboard, face in obvious pain. "I…I dunno…" he answers, grinding his ass into the bed. His eyes are clenched shut as his hands tighten on the bed sheets. "S-something feels…different this time…."

At that, alarm has Sam seated himself on the edge of the mattress and reaching for his brother's face. His large hands rest steadily on parts Dean's jaw and neck. "How is it different?" he asks, tilting Dean's head so they focused on Sam. But the older man doesn't respond for almost a full minute. His breaths are heavy and he's leaning into Sam's touch as if it's a life saver. Swallowing what seemed like a frog, Sam cautiously brings his other hand to his brother's fly and unzips it. When he doesn't meet resistance, Sam breathes a sigh of relief. Then he slowly covers the man's dick with his palm. "_Dean_," Sam begins. He loves the way his brother thrusts into his hand immediately. "I need answers here."

"…_Fuck_, Sam," Dean growls. "It's _not enough_."

Sam continues palming the older man as he fought his own hardening member. "What's not enough?"

Dean pushes his hips forward hard but grinds back down on the bed just as hard. "I need_… _something _else_…" he answers, breath short, avoiding Sam's stare. "…s-something in my ass…"

When Sam's jacking hand freezes, so does his brain. In fact, his entire body goes into the Ice Age.

Dean's eyes turn wide, as if suddenly realizing what he has suggested. And with what seemed like great effort and an incredible will, he wrenches himself away from Sam. The older man flinches as he does so and stumbles off the bed. It takes a minute or two but by the time he's shrugging on his jacket and pulling on his shoes, Sam has had time to thaw out.

"Dean, where're you going?" Sam demands, standing up.

"Hand jobs from you I can take," the older man answers, frustrated and just a little indignant. "but I am _not_ taking up your dick!"

It's a little beyond Sam when he actually feels offended. "So, what," he starts angrily, storming across the floor, "you're just going to go off and find _some stranger_ to put it in you?"

"Yes!"

"We don't have enough cash for a prostitute!" And Sam knows he's flat out lying to Dean then because there's a wad of hundreds he can feel in the back of his jean pocket. He isn't going to give it up so his brother can sleep with someone else when Sam is completely available.

Dean's eyes harden, despite his body shaking from denying it what it wants. "Then I'll find someone who's willing."

Just as the older man turns his back and opens the door, Sam rushes forward from behind him and slams it close with a flat hand to the surface. His body inches closer to Dean's back until he's breathing on his brother's neck. The younger Winchester knows that he's pushy, that he's being unreasonably aggressive, but he has never been refused before. Mix that in with needing to save his only family left and he's got a bad recipe for consequences.

Nearing Dean's ear, Sam murmurs in a low and sure voice, "_I'm_ willing."

Dean shudders. Without turning around, he struggles to speak evenly. "…I know you are."

"Then what's the problem? Why find someone else?" Sam tries to persuade. "We're the only guests here and you know there isn't another town for miles in either direction, let alone find someone to screw you in time. And I doubt the motel manager is going to help out so…"

Finally, Dean turns around and faces the taller man, his eyes trying to hold steady when he does. "The problem is…I know what sex means to you, Sam, and I'm not going there. Not with you."

Offended and more than just a little hurt, Sam asks, "So you'd rather _die_? Isn't that…a little _stupid_, Dean, after _all_ we've been through? You've saved me more times than I can count already and _I_ want to save you this time—not some angel, or vampire, or some other supernatural creature, but _ME, _Dean, your own damn _brother_."

The older man looks at Sam defiantly. "You weren't…all rainbows and sunshine the last time I saved you," he says bitterly.

Heart thudding hard and slow, Sam's hand slides down from the door and warily rests it behind Dean's neck. He knows he's being sneaky, knows he's trying to worm his way beneath his brother's skin by touching him, and letting Dean have physical contact, but all Sam wants is to feel the same way he felt with his brother in their Impala again. "I thought I was doing good, Dean," he murmurs. His free hand brushes the older man's waist, pushing his shirt up, and Dean inhales a breath sharply. "I didn't want anyone else getting hurt because of me, especially you." All true and yet things just never seem to go Sam's way.

Even in his aroused state, Dean tries to pull back. Not giving an inch, Sam just follows him forward until he's leaning the smaller man against the door. He's never seen his older brother so uncontrollably emotional. Dean sounds like a rough wreck when he speaks. "You thought you were doing anybody a favour by dying?" Hot fingers grasp around Sam's forearms, clenching and pushing at him as if they weren't sure if they wanted Sam or not; even Dean's breath on his chin is hot as he speaks. "…Even after what I said at the church? After what we _promised_ together…? You _still_ wanted to leave me, Sam!"

"I'm sorry," the taller man murmurs, body pressed close to Dean's. He moves his hands to Dean's lower waist, fingers slipping underneath the briefs and feeling hip bones. Sam continues, "And I mean it, but let's not talk about this right now, Dean. You're gonna die if you don't get off soon."

"L-let me die," Dean whispers coarsely.

A spurt of anger rushes through Sam and compels one of his hands to grasp Dean firmly by the member. "You wouldn't let me die—what makes you think I'm going to let you?" he asks, pulling hard.

Dean gasps and falls forward into Sam's arms groaning. "Fine!" he huffs and swears. He grinds against Sam's jean covered dick and swears again. "Let's just get this over with...!"

They stumble towards the closest bed available, throwing off their clothes in the process. All the while, Dean claims it's unnecessary to be naked. Sam convinces him otherwise by covering the smaller man with his own body. As skin meets skin from the chest to the knees in, leaving a burning after-trail, Sam observes his brother becoming less and less sane. The older man writhes on his back, moans, and clutches Sam's shoulders, biceps, and waist. With each drawn out stroke Sam administers to Dean's dick, the older man constricts his firm thighs together, squeezing Sam's lower hips in desperation until it hurt.

"…Lube…"Sam murmurs after a good five minutes. He's been dazed the entire time, too absorbed in the fact that he's getting his brother off to realize there's a bigger picture. He takes a breath and glances around. Then he faintly remembers that he has one in his duffel bag; the last time he used it was with Amelia. Now, he has more ambitious plans with it—which involved multiple usages with the same partner, because Dean is right. Sex isn't just sex to Sam. It's a commitment.

"Sam…?" Dean asks when the taller man lets go of his dick and tries to pry the man's legs off of him. It only results in their grip tightening. "What're you trying to do?" His voice sounds alarmed.

Catching the change of tone, Sam attempts to comfort his brother. He smoothes Dean's shins and rubs the man's knees consolingly. "Just trying to get us some lube. I'll be back—"

"NO," Dean interrupts. He pushes himself up and wraps his arms around Sam's neck. His legs do the same with Sam's waist. "Take me with you."

Sam's breath hitches when Dean's ass brushes over the tip of his cock and when Dean's voice rumbles in his ears; the taller man can't quite believe his brother wants him to c_arry _him. Sam's duffel is only laying a few feet away from them on the room table, yet, it seems like it's across the ocean by the way Dean is acting. Nonetheless, Sam understands why. He knows Dean will be in pain if someone doesn't touch him.

Without questioning, he hoists his six foot one brother up with his arms. The man is heavy like Sam expects, but it's not a weight he's uncomfortable with. He's wrestled with the man before and fought monsters twice their mass and strength. In fact, what makes Sam uncomfortable is the way Dean has found himself rubbing his member against Sam's washboard abs. Not only is it damn hot, but Sam's cock itself is also getting a good rubbing from Dean's round bottom each time the older man grinds onto him.

"…Dean…stop... _doing_ that." Sam grips his brother hard, trying not to let his knees buckle when he walks.

"Shut up, Sam," Dean breathes warmly on Sam's neck. "Can't help it…" and he continues, clearly not caring about how much he's turning the taller man on.

This time, it's Sam's turn to groan. It comes out low from his throat and he has to rest once they reach the table. He settles Dean down, skin damp and chest heaving from all the exertion and his arousal. Dean's legs are still around his waist when Sam reaches past the man to grab his duffel. As he moves, his cock brushes his brother's and they both hiss in the unexpected pleasure that comes from it.

"Sam, just put it in me now," Dean rasps out. With his legs, he pulls the taller man flush against his member and his breath is cut short when their dicks slide together.

"…We need the lube, Dean," Sam answers with difficulty and grabs blindly for his duffel. He lets Dean rut into him as he rummages through to the bottom of his bag; once he feels a familiar sleek bottle, he reels it out and pops the cap open with a thumb.

Cool gel-like liquid covers his palm and Sam wastes no time working it between his and Dean's body. Without trouble, his large hand wraps around both their cocks and spreads the lube all over them. Like a pro, Sam tugs and pulls and grasps at varying pressures until Dean's fingers are tight in the tall man's hair.

"_Fuck_, Sammy." The older brother sighs heavily into his brother's skin. "When you going to fuck me, huh?" he asks, dragging his calloused hand down Sam's back.

The taller man shivers. It's strange to hear something like that from Dean, but it also tickles Sam a good way because of the way the older man says it. Sam parts just far enough so that he can see how untogether his big brother is. Dean's eyes are heavy with desire, his lips dry from breathing open-mouthed, his cheeks are flushed a faint red, and his skin glistens from the neon bright lights coming from outside.

It baffles Sam.

He has seen Dean exerted from brawls and coming home fresh from sex and thought nothing of it, because they were brothers and things like that just doesn't cross his mind. But that was before the curse and now that Sam brings those images from his mind, there's only one way to view it.

_Fucking sexy_….he thinks unconsciously and leans forward, tilting his head just a bit so their noses don't clash when they—

His lips meet stubble just under Dean's jaw instead of the man's mouth.

"_Sam_," Dean warns, pushing the taller person away. In all honesty, Sam is surprised, and disappointed, that his brother still has enough will power to refuse him. Considering Dean's eagerness to touch, who would've thought that he would say no to a kiss?

Hardened by loss, by monsters, by the Apocalypse, and even by Hell, Sam is a hunter capable of cold-murder and slaughter, yet, in the face of his brother who has denied him one simple _kiss_, the Sasquatch six-foot four of a man suddenly wants to cry. "Dean," he whispers, halting his jacking hand. He stares confused at the person he's trying to save. It's just like the last time he tried to kiss Dean in the Impala. "Why not? It's just a kiss. You always kiss."

"I kiss _women_, not men or brothers," Dean says gruffly, trying to get his brother to jack them off again. "And, no, it's not _just_ a kiss, Sam. It's never just a kiss with you." He moans when Sam continues a little hesitatingly before dropping his forehead onto Sam's chest. "Just…just fuck me, alright?" he asks breathlessly.

But Sam doesn't just want to have sex. He wants everything that's supposed to come along with lovemaking, because that's how he's seeing his situation. He wants to kiss without restraint, he wants to whisper sweet nothings, and he wants to love and be loved. But so far, everything is one-sided and Sam doesn't expect to be on the losing side.

"Yeah…if that's what you need," Sam answers quietly. Feeling sullen, he pulls Dean closer to himself, trying to seek even a little comfort from the man who just gave him a verbal whipping. In response, Dean lifts his head and hooks his chin over Sam's shoulder, arms back around the man's ribcage and legs back to squeezing Sam's hips.

Dean sighs in content. "Feels good, Sammy…"

Covering his hand with their pre-cum, Sam releases their cocks and moves his hands behind Dean's lower back. The older man complains about the loss of heat; Sam easily rebukes him. "You were the one who wanted your ass stuffed." At that, Dean quiets and waits.

With his clean hand, Sam spreads Dean's butt cheeks apart and places his wet hand between with one finger in position at the hole. He nips lightly at Dean's shoulder and before the man can protest about it, Sam sinks his finger in.

Dean complains anyways. "Fuck, Sam…I don't need to prep!" He squirms in Sam's palm, working the finger farther in as he did so.

Biting the insides of his cheeks, Sam tries not to groan from feeling the wet and hot tunnel in his brother. "And I don't want to rip you a new hole," he grounds out, slipping another finger in.

"You…you don't have to do that," Dean murmurs but it's loud in Sam's ears. He pushes back into Sam's fingers and holds his younger brother tighter. "Just fuck me already…okay Sam? Nothing will hurt…anything you do feels good."

Ignoring Dean's request, Sam continues to withdraw his fingers out and then back in. He adds a third finger in, feeling Dean's rim stretching over him to accommodate the width. When he does Sam can't deny he loves the way his brother's heel digs into lower back when he hits a particular spot in him, or even how Dean's body quivers from trying not to groan (but Sam hears it anyways). Best of all, Sam loves to watch his fingers disappear into Dean's ass and feel his digits being squeezed by the anal muscles inside. The sensation sends more blood rushing into Sam's dick to the point where he wants to replace his fingers with his swelling member.

Slowly, he removes his fingers one by one, relishing how Dean's hole lets it go with a slight pucker each time. Grabbing the lube, he chucks it onto Dean's bed and hoists him up from the table.

"Hey, hey!" Dean says, meeting Sam's eyes directly. "I thought we were gonna do it on the table!"

"No way," Sam mutters. "Bed's more comfortable."

"You're completely dragging this out," Dean grumbles and lifts himself higher on Sam, reaching for the man's cock just under him.

Before Sam realizes what his brother is planning, he feels the head of his dick touching Dean's rim and squishing past it when the man forces himself down. "Dean!" Sam gasps out and almost falls over.

"_Ah..._" The older man groans and presses his cheek to his brother's nape. "That's _much_ better…"

"C-could've given me a little warning, jackass," Sam says haggardly. He can't quite believe Dean has just sunken down the length of his dick in one go.

"Shut up, Princess," the older man remarks and swivels his hips just a bit so he's seated nicely over Sam's balls.

"_Fuck_, Dean...couldn't we just d-do it…_once_ we got to the bed?" Sam asks. His cock is sensitive in his brother's ass, all tightly wrapped in the most amazing and wettest of heats, and he just wants to drop to his knees and pound away into his brother on the floor. But he doesn't. He wants to do it right and he wants Dean on the bed. It's hard though because each movement has the older man bouncing lightly on his dick.

As he struggles to hold his brother up and walk, Sam wonders how his brother accommodated him so easily. The taller man can still feel Dean adjusting to his cock, and that's reasonable, but it's not often someone could take him with ease. Despite almost an hour of foreplay, women would still feel some pain. Sam tries to think of why his brother is different. Maybe it's because Dean's not a woman, maybe it's because the organ Sam's penetrating isn't a pussy, or maybe because Dean is big himself he can take bigger things—either way, Sam is in awe.

He doesn't even realize Dean hasn't bothered to answer him at all.

They reach the bed breathing hard and sweating to the point where Sam thinks he might lose his grip on Dean; he almost does when he attempts to place the older man gently on the bed, but ends up nearly dropping him. Then they fall ungracefully to the mattress with Dean's long legs still on Sam's waist and his rough hands still about Sam's neck.

Pushing his own hair back, the taller man brings the same hand to his brother's face and wipes the perspiration from Dean's brow. "You alright there?"

"I swear, the next time you ask that, I'm going to be throwing punches!" Dean growls, and swats Sam's hand away. "I'm fine, I'm alright—I just need to be fucked!"

"I don't want to just fuck…" Sam mumbles but he knows Dean doesn't hear it, the older man being too busy to pull Sam closer to him to care. He wants his brother to listen though, and to do that, he would have to do that without a dick in Dean's ass. Sighing, Sam smoothes his brother's calves then thighs and whispers in the man's ear, "Just relax, Dean. Relax…"

Dean closes his eyes, nods, and loosens up his muscles; when he does, Sam immediately pulls himself away and takes his cock with him a few steps back. He feels like a terrible man—a terrible human being, for doing that because Dean's eyelids fly open and he sits up in the dim room with a pained expression mixed with utmost panic.

It's the panic part that gets to Sam.

Confused, Dean calls out his baby name and Sam, naturally, wants to listen. He shakes his head. _Not this time_, the taller man thinks again and again while his heart runs a mile per second. He needs to explain to Dean, to reason with him and persuade him, that this isn't just about sex.

He doesn't get the chance though because Dean, only Dean, has ever been able to break his will.

The older man sits with his legs apart and his knees in the air in all his naked glory, his body being defined by darkness and a multitude of shadows, but the man is nowhere near ashamed. He is every definition of vulnerable and Sam doesn't really know how or why when just a second ago the man was asking to be screwed so desperately. "Sammy?" Dean says again, voice quieter and shaking with his body. "…Do you really…_want_ me to die?"

They've talked about that already but somehow it struck a chord much closer to Sam's heart. Just like that though, Sam's will, apparently made of china, fractures and crumbles to pieces. He can't be selfish—he can't ignore Dean's obvious need for his own agenda.

He just has to accept that sex this time will just be sex and nothing more.

Making his way back to the bed, Sam tries to console his brother. "No, Dean," he says and sees how the older man is watching his every move warily. Sam reaches for the corner of the bed, noting how Dean is restraining himself from touching him, and closes his hand around a bottle. He draws himself back up and holds the lube to Dean's face, trying to be casual. "Just thought we needed more of this."

Exhaling a breath Sam didn't even know Dean has been holding, the older man shifts his eyes away and mutters, "Didn't have to pull away for that."

Sam laughs lightly and places himself between his brother's knees. "Well, you would've complained if I told you straight up."

When Sam places his hand on Dean's knee, the older man sighs a breath of relief and lies down. "No, foreplay, Sam," he warns and gives the taller man a stern look.

Once a copious amount of lube is slathered all around Sam's member, he lets both his hands slide over Dean's strong thighs until they're at his waist. In the back of his mind, Sam half-expects Dean will wrap his legs around him again, but when the older man just stares at him, Sam pulls Dean closer to himself.

"What?" Sam asks, leaning over, but there's no response. His hands rest on either side of Dean's head as he pushes in. Groaning, he closes his eyes in pleasure when muscles give way to his girth.

"Feels good, Sammy?"

Startled by the question, because throughout their entire situation Dean has never asked, Sam opens his eyes in surprise. He meets Dean's, whose warm breath tickles his face and sways a few strands of Sam's hair. "Yeah, I guess…Uh, you?"

For a moment, Dean searches Sam's face, and the taller man isn't too sure what for but once again, he feels the urge to kiss. He tilts his head experimentally, leaning further down, and pausing only when he realizes that Dean is following his head's movement. When he tilts left, Dean tilts right; when Sam tilts right, Dean goes left. Finally when Sam moves up, Dean's chin follows and Sam knows for sure it's his lips that Dean's following. It sends pleasure, greater than having his dick in a wet hole, coursing through the blood in his veins to realize that.

"Dean, what're you doing?"

The older man gulps, licks his lips, and then meets Sam's eyes. "Nothing…just thinking your hair's ridiculously long, now," he murmurs. Then hesitantly, as if to distract Sam, he wraps his arms around the taller man's neck and the look in his eyes changes. "You going to move any time soon?"

The tender moment pushed aside, Sam begins to pull out. He keeps his eyes open long enough to see Dean's expression when he slowly pushes himself back in. Dean's arms tighten around Sam's neck and his head presses into the mattress, a long drawn out groan leaving his mouth as he does so. Reveling in the friction and heat, Sam continues to take it slow.

However, it's at a turtle's pace and Dean's the hare that wants to finish the race. "I can take it faster, Sam." But Sam refuses to quicken his momentum because he's worried about wounding his brother. "Fuck it," Dean mutters hooking his legs around Sam's waist, he uses the taller man's weight to topple him over so that Dean sits on top, dick still in him and all. "If you won't ride fast, I will," and Dean does just that. He lays both his palms flat against Sam's broad chest, lifts his hips to the head, and shoves back down on all eight inches and of Sam's cock.

The taller man groans in unison with his brother, feeling the tight and hot slickness all around his member. It drives him crazy when his fingers reach behind Dean and touches their point of junction as Dean raises himself back up before taking another heavy seat. The older man repeats the motions, cock swaying in the air as his knees press into Sam's ribcage with bruising force.

After awhile, Dean deamnds breathless, "_Sam_…touch…me…again."

Even though Sam is close, and he's pretty sure Dean is too, he holds back from reaching out. Maybe he hasn't learned his lesson yet or maybe he really is just too stubborn and selfish, but Sam has seen Dean vulnerable more than once. With Dean being sex-crazed and desperate, maybe Sam can get a kiss in after all.

He just has to ask.

"Kiss me first, Dean."

The older man gapes at him and falters in his hip action. "Wha? Sam—I told you, _no_ kisses!"

"You said _I_ couldn't kiss you…but that doesn't mean _you_ can't kiss me," Sam reasons, one finger ghosting over the older man's cock.

Dean groans and shivers as he slows down. "The general point…" he says, glaring at Sam through lust, "was to _not_ kiss at all!"

"I don't see why not," Sam counters bravely and blows a puff of warm breath on the head of Dean's member. "We're in the process of fucking and I know you don't want to die—" Dean's ass clenches harder than usual and Sam has to break from talking. He inhales and continues. "Besides…I know you want to kiss me too…" His finger traces around Dean's cock some more, but doesn't fully grasp it as he holds his brother's eyes. "I don't know what you're afraid of Dean, but it doesn't have to be that."

"…God, you are the biggest fucking girl e_ver_ to walk on two legs," Dean mutters. Then he bends over, grabs Sam by the hair and brings their lips together.

It's only a few seconds of flesh meshing with brute force, of teeth clacking slightly together and tongues twisting, but it's a few seconds that Sam wishes he could've had earlier in his adulthood—or even adolescence. Maybe their lives wouldn't be shit burning on the ground. Maybe less people would've died. Maybe Dean wouldn't always be drinking and sleeping around. Maybe Sam wouldn't have made so many stupid decisions in his life if he only made just the one _good_ one. And it was this.

He feels plump lips leaving his all too soon and sits up, trying to recapture the fleeing warmth. When he doesn't, he opens his eyes again. The older man is inches from his face and breathing haggardly, body no longer riding on Sam's but fully seated now.

Reaching for the back of Dean's head, he leans forward slowly, giving his brother fully enough time to refuse him. Thank the heavens above and below when Dean, who eyes him soulfully, doesn't. Partially closing his eyes, Sam wets his lips, pressing them to his brother's with a tenderness that scares him. He doesn't care though as he gradually opens his mouth to part Dean's. Their rough tongues meet in the middle and slide against each other at the same time Sam wraps his hand around Dean's dick.

The older man makes a sound and Sam swallows it, holding his brother firmly in place as he jacks him off in time to their kissing. Dean groans even more, arms resting over Sam's broad shoulders as he grinds down onto the taller man's cock.

Five minutes later, cum smears Sam's fingers and abs while his swollen member is milked for all its worth. Soft muscles clench tightly around it and then the taller man is emptying his own load of cum into his brother's ass. Their mouths separate and they gasp and groan as their bodies drive out the adrenaline.

Then silence falls between them, orgasm filling their heads in a foggy daze as their chests heaved against each other. Sam tries to calm his breathing, then lifts his forehead from Dean's shoulder, anxious and half-afraid of who'll he see.

He receives the same look his brother gave him post-orgasm in their car; Sam doesn't know if that's a good thing or bad thing.

His heart thumps heavily in his chest. "…Dean?" he murmurs, rubbing his brother's back and waist. "I...is the curse broken…?"

To Sam's pleasant surprise, Dean strokes his stubble and runs a hand through the taller man's hair. "I dunno, Sammy," Dean answers in a low voice. "But I think it's the best thing that's happened to us."

Sam blinks in elation. "Really? So, this wasn't just sex?"

"If there's sex and kissing with a person you would die for," Dean says raising his brow, "what would you call that?"

"…A series of unfortunate events?" Sam smiles and holds the older man tighter. When Dean frowns at him, Sam shrugs and grins. "A curse?"

At that, Dean laughs; as he does, his body trembles and massages his brother's cock back to life inside him. "Yeah, sure. Why not?" he murmurs and kisses Sam.


End file.
